


A Mother's Smile

by aryasnark



Category: Cinderella (2015)
Genre: F/M, I am not very good at writing this, Just a small fic about Ella and her mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryasnark/pseuds/aryasnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one person the 5-year old girl named Ella loved the most in the world, it was her mother. Her mother with her kind heart, beautiful face and humbling wit. Ella knew that her mother was exactly who she wanted to grow up to be. </p>
<p>(request fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Smile

If there was one person the 5-year old girl named Ella loved the most in the world, it was her mother. Her mother with her kind heart, beautiful face and humbling wit. Ella knew that her mother was exactly who she wanted to grow up to be. 

Of course Ella loved her father, too, but as he said himself, the ladies had to stick together. Ella was often saddened by how her father had to go on trips, but he was a merchant, and it was a part of his job. Ella could tell her mother was always as sad about her father's departure as Ella was. So every time he left, Ella and her mother would help Flora bake a lovely chocolate cake that the two of them would eat on the porch, watching as the animals ran across the yard. It was one of the best things Ella could think of.

Another thing was when her mother agreed to braid her hair in new, exciting styles. Ella had always thought that her mother's hair was the most beautiful of all, and she always asked for the same haircut as what her mother was wearing.

On a hot summer's day, when Ella and her mother had been walking through the meadow, they had heard the bells being rung at the castle. It had made Ella turn to look at her mother questioningly.

"It's the prince's birthday", Ella's mother said knowingly.

"How old is the prince?" Ella asked curiously, holding onto her mother's hand as they jumped over a rock on their way.

"The same age as you, my darling", Ella's mother said with a kind smile.

Somehow this had made Ella smile."Do you think he's pleasant?"

"I don't see why not."

"I don't see why not, either", Ella nodded approvingly, and so the two kept on walking.

When Ella turned 7, her mother sewed her a new, beautiful gown. Of course Ella had gotten it dirty in the garden after a few minutes of playing, but thankfully they had managed to wash it. And even if they hadn't, Ella still would have worn it because it was beautiful, and most importantly, her mother had made it for her.

Ella often asked her father about his trips when he came home. She listened eagerly as he told her about France and Spain, Italy and Greece, and giggled as her father told her the jokes he'd shared with Farmer John during the trip.

But every so often Ella's gaze would travel to the doorway, where Ella's mother was standing, watching with a kind smile. Somehow she was always present, even when she was not engaged in the conversation. Especially then. Ella realized she felt safe under the watchful eye of her mother. Safer than she'd ever felt before.

When her mother had gotten ill, Ella found she had not expected it even in the slightest. It began slowly, with her father mentioning that she would be staying home for a while because Mother was not feeling well. But Ella would never have guessed...

Nor had anyone given her a reason to believe. Everyone had sugar-coated the truth from Ella, including her mother, and later on Ella found she would have wished they had not. It was so much harder to live with false hope. But she had understood why they'd done it. Ella's energy and kindness had been the last thing keeping her mother in this world, and none of them wanted to take it away from her.

"What if she dies?" Ella had asked, so very quietly, one night as she was watching Flora cook. The chef had turned to look at Ella with a startled expression, certainly not waiting for such a thing to come out of her mouth.

"Miss Ella...", Flora sighed, putting down the spoon she'd used to stir the sauce. For a moment Ella felt angry. What on earth did the sauce matter? What was the point of anything? Her mother, the strongest person she had ever known, was dying. 

But the anger only lasted for a few seconds. Deep down Ella knew she had a lot to be grateful for. But it still wasn't fair. And it was what she repeated over and over again as she cried while Flora hugged her tight, as if that would make anything better.

But it didn't. Flora's hugs didn't help, nor did Ella's kindness. Even the doctor could do nothing to cure her mother. And finally the day for goodbyes came. Ella hardly remembered anything about that day. She did not remember the blue slippers she had worn. She did not remember the crowd of servants and doctors watching her with pity in their eyes as she'd walked into her father's study, where her mother was waiting. All she remembered was her mother. Her kindness, her goodness, the way she had clutched onto Ella's hands as she had told her the greatest secret in the world, the secret that ended up helping Ella through all the trials of life, just as she had promised.

In the end there had been nothing Ella could have done, except promise. Promise to always be kind and courageous, just like her mother had always been. Ella's mother had left the world being held by the two most important people in her life.

What Ella did remember was listening to her mother's heartbeat as she'd hugged her one last time, and the horrifying realization when Ella had noticed, after a moment, that she could no longer hear it. 

Despite all the heartache being a part of Ella's last moments with her mother, it was not the tears nor the sorrow that she chose to look back on every time she remembered her mother. 

It was her kind smile, her watchful nature, and her courageous spirit. Ella's mother had, and always would be, the source of inspiration for Ella, and she knew in her heart that if her mother could see the person she had turned into, she would have been very proud indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I must say, to my shame, that I am not very good at writing platonic relationships in fiction, so this may be pretty horrible, but I tried and hopefully it's not the worst thing in the world!


End file.
